


The Musings of a Flappy Bird

by Korbean



Category: Flappy Bird (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Existential Crisis, Other, Please be warned, im sorry, this is Actually Trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-04 23:41:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6680686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Korbean/pseuds/Korbean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the tale of a Flappy bird, who finds something, a purpose.<br/>This is definately not trying to be serious. Either way this is actually trash. This is about that stupid fucking game that took over everything for like a week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Musings of a Flappy Bird

* * *

* * *

I don't know how I got here. Facing forward and flapping, that is my existence. I know of nothing else nor can I do anything else. I am not aware of my origin, or of even my appearance. Doomed to an eternal existence of flying past forest green pipes. Never to receive answers, never to divert from my fate. I can do nothing to avoid my eternity of flying haphazardly between these tall, presumably, deadly obstacles. This is how I live my life. Simply flapping up and down avoiding what I assume is death if I run into one. Every time I pass one, a high pitched 'ding’ resonates in my ear. Sending shivers down my short legless torso. I feel a small amount of sympathy for it. Forced to resound across our plane of existence every time I pass an obstacle. The sound, brought into existence by my pointless passing of the elongated green pillars, and then gone as soon as it came. It is trapped and ultimately controlled by the invisible threads that bind us all in this never ending cycle. I never tire yet I feel myself yearning a rest. A temporary vacation, away from the continuous monotony of our existence. I glance down furtively at the large bars that pierce up from the ground. I feel myself yearning their touch. They signal an end; they promise a rest from this cycle that has no end. They offer me a deviation. I want to crash my voluptuous lips against the green of their elongated bodies. Sometime I hear them whisper to themselves, like one hive mind, all existing and thinking as one. Unable to contain myself, I allow myself to fall. Plummeting towards them I ready my body for the impact. The moment I hit my body against the cold hard steel I feel shudders reverberate throughout my entire body. I moan loudly and feel the sensation die away, as I fall through the ground. I open my eyes and find myself flying again. Confused, I flap, wondering why I’m still here. Amidst my confusion, realization hits me. I can never escape. This cycle will continue for all eternity, until death decides it would like to add me to his ever expanding collection. That’s if I’m even lucky enough to die one day. The ground will extend forward for eons, creating and destroying new land and pipes as I pass. This dead wasteland will continue its pointless existence. Despite having no purpose I am here. I am a pointless being, without purpose I will never have happiness. Although….the pipes change that. They can end it. They can end the cycle, filling me and emptying me with that dazzling sensation. Though an odd one, it provides a respite from this empty space. Rescuing me from the constant boredom and hopelessness of my life. Out of everything in my dull existence that was the one difference, the fulfilling and sensual thud. The sensations that flooded my body were overwhelming. I needed more, I craved more, I can’t live without more. I could see the tall lime green color in the near distance. My engorged lip trembled with anticipation as I could practically feel the slamming sensation of that long verdant color of plumbing. Plummeting downward I grinned as I saw the forest color grow closer and closer. I was filled with the painfully tasteful sensation of my body slamming lip first into the long and cold steel. Waves of a strange, almost wrong, sensation went through my limp body, starting from my lip and spreading between my wings and eyes. Letting out a moan I fall slowly backwards from the barrier, through the ground. Waking again I grin. This feeling can provide me with purpose. I continue this cycle for days, having found a divergence from my original path.  On occasion I could feel the pipe shudder with me, as though enjoying watching my body rattle with sensation as I fell. I could always feel their dead and cold gaze as I inched closer, flapping my wings persistently. Sometimes I would dive forwards towards the pipe and then pull back up. I would hear a disapproving ding resound from within their metal. I enjoyed teasing the pipes occasionally, withholding from them my body's thud. They seemed to enjoy it too, in some tantalizing way I liked to believe that the anticipation made the next thud so much more satisfying. Slamming, vibrations, the erratic sensations never grew old. I find myself more content with my existence, knowing that the pipes can break the cycle, and bring me such feelings of pleasure. I understand new things, emotion, feeling, and yearning for touch. These things plague my mind every time I'm reborn, and every time I feel the metals cold touch fade away as I die. Though my life has no original purpose I have made my own.

I'm no longer sure how long I've been here, but something feels different. The world seems filled with static and the atmosphere is off. I feel, a very light touch against my body. Soft and fleeting but consistent. I think it might be what is called wind. The pipes continue to expand but the dings begin to echo and my surroundings begin to fade. My wings grow weary despite the fact that I require no energy or food. I begin to feel a tearing sensation spread across my entire being, as though Invisible fingers and threads are ripping at my entire body, tearing off chunks of my very being, my essence. I begin to forget my life, I can no longer remember when I started purposely slamming into the pipes. I can hardly remember why I even do it. The dings still resound in my ears as I manage to continue flapping. I can feel myself fading away, all I want is to feel that cold steel against my lips once again. One last moment of pleasing sensations, I once yearned for deletion but now I fear it. Knowing I will never feel the pipes long body against mine is terrifying. I may not know what love is but how I felt towards the steel multi bodied entity is probably the closest I could come. As my body fades away I feel my lip begin to touch the pipe. The sensation is more soft, more caring. As though I am simply resting my head against the hard metal of the pipes. As we both come to an eternal rest. We both begin to fade away, facing our deletion, together.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you don't harbor feelings of hatred for me now. If you wish you could forget this existed, I do too.


End file.
